


pleasure doing business

by gurj14



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, Light Dom/sub, Porn with some kind of Plot, Resolved Sexual Tension, Service Top Lexa (The 100), Smut, at work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-18 04:48:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29852805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gurj14/pseuds/gurj14
Summary: “How about we discuss that and these papers over dinner?” Lexa asked, forthright.To her delight, Clarke didn’t even hesitate. “Excellent. My place, seven sharp. I trust you have the address.”The phone clicked.(Lexa needs Clarke to sign off on some papers, and Clarke wants to be convinced first).
Relationships: Clarke Griffin/Lexa
Comments: 10
Kudos: 246
Collections: Clexaweek2021





	pleasure doing business

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to my beta Chip!

Lexa sat in her office, heaving out a sigh. Just her and paperwork, the large panes of glass encasing her on the top floor connecting with the rain outside as a background rhythm suiting the monotony of her workday. 

Her focus on the week’s paperwork scraps was disturbed by a common knock on the solid oak door. Common in its annoying frequency. 

“Enter.” She allowed Titus, her personal assistant, a man more devoted to her and her position than was perhaps the norm, to scurry inside with whatever ‘urgency’ he needed her to know about. Nonetheless, Lexa made a point to ensure her employees were the most loyal. Earning her favour was a competition that fueled their agenda, after all, and Titus was the head of her unofficial fan club. 

“Sorry to disturb you, Ms. Woods,” Titus said and held up a file, enclosed in a plastic caddy. His face told her what he was going to say before he could say it. 

“She didn’t sign them did she?” Lexa was not at all surprised, in fact, she knew this would be the outcome when she sent him on the errand, but she did not  _ want  _ Titus to know that. She wanted him to feel her disappointment, like a game. 

“I’m s-sorry. Her words were ‘if Lexa wants me to sign off on these she has to come here herself to convince me.’ Verbatim, I’m afraid.” 

Clarke’s likely vicious statement to her assistant was amusing when paraphrased from him, and Lexa pressed the end of her gold pen to her lips making sure not to smile while Titus was still in the room. 

Instead, she gave him her very best ‘Lexa Woods is disappointed in you but will still send you on errands’ face. “It’s alright Titus, I’ll take care of it. Don’t fail me with the rest of the investors.” 

“Understood.” He placed the folder on her desk, unaware she had sent him to Clarke for her own personal gain (and amusement). “Are you done for the evening?”

Lexa checked her slim-fit, diamond-encrusted wristwatch. It would do no good to rush over to Clarke’s right away. 

“I will be soon, Titus. You’re dismissed, have a pleasant evening.” 

“You too, Ms. Woods.” He left her office, the heavy thud of the wood door signaling she was alone with just the sound of heavy rainfall again. 

Alone, she allowed the restrained smile to break out, reaching for the plastic enclosed papers and leaning back in her chair. 

Clarke Griffin -- a young woman with far too much money. She was on the Board of Lexa’s company, owned ten percent of her shares, even. Clarke hated being told what to do, showing up with her Venti Starbucks and handheld chihuahua lovingly named  _ Picasso _ to sanctioned Board meetings, challenging everyone, and always seeking Lexa out to make sure her displeasure was known. Always in low-cut tops that seemed to get lower and lower. 

Lexa knew what the woman wanted, it was obvious. She craved Lexa’s attention with so much eagerness it was a boost to anyone’s ego (even Lexa was but a mere gay woman underneath her tough exterior). And tonight she had the desire to do something about it. 

They had played this game long enough, and recent events in this very office -- the softest of kisses she had bestowed upon Clarke’s pliant lips -- were the very reason Clarke was so ready to see her again. Lexa had left the ball in the other woman’s court and taken her attention away -- knowing it was a matter of time until Clarke’s impatience and annoyance gave in. 

She reached for her office phone, calling the Griffin residence herself. 

“Griffin residence?”

“This is Lexa Woods from Polis Management. I’m calling for Miss Griffin.” 

She was put on hold for three full minutes until Clarke answered. Lexa closed her eyes and listened to the rain, thinking of the way Clarke had gasped into her mouth and leaned in to deepen their contact. 

“Lexa.” Clarke’s voice was stern, but Lexa could hear the hope underlying it. 

“You embarrassed my assistant, Clarke.” She was smirking, phone cradled to her ear so she could hear every intake of breath. She twirled her gold pen in her fingers, waiting. 

With a short laugh, Clarke was more sultry than Lexa thought she had the guts for. “I thought you knew better than to send anyone but yourself, darling.” 

There it was. The invitation. 

Lexa loved the pull of Clarke’s voice, her lips threatening to smile wider. She crossed her legs, needing to settle the sudden flame that ignited between them. 

“I’m your darling, now, am I?”

Clarke was silent. Lexa uncrossed and recrossed her legs as almost a full minute went by. 

“You can be,” Clarke whispered quietly. An admission of her desire. 

Lexa closed her eyes, clenching her fist so she was not tempted to pump it into the air like Titus’s boyfriend Gallagher when the Tondisi football team they watched from Polis Management’s company box got the winning touchdown. 

She was not that juvenile (outwardly). 

“How about we discuss that and these papers over dinner?” Lexa asked, forthright. 

To her delight, Clarke didn’t even hesitate. “Excellent. My place, seven sharp. I trust you have the address.” 

The phone clicked. 

Lexa’s whole body thrummed with excitement. She knew exactly where this was going. It’s been weeks,  _ weeks  _ since she gently kissed Clarke in her office, cautiously testing the waters. She had gently cupped Clarke’s blushing cheek and leaned in. Sweet, chaste, and lingering. Clarke kissed her back for a glorious moment before backing out, requesting Lexa give her some time. 

Apparently, Clarke had enough time now. 

In the private bathroom adjoining her office, Lexa checked her appearance in the mirror. She’s been in her clothes all day, but she looked neat and put together, still. A black mandarin-styled blazer made of the finest virgin wool, handmade to fit her with matching tailored slacks. Her red sole black Louboutins matched the same red of her silk blouse. 

Pleased with how she looked, Lexa gave a quick finger comb-through of her chestnut mane, imagining Clarke pulling it in desperation and thankful for how freshly conditioned it was.

She reached for her cupboard and pulled out some nail clippers, giving her fingernails a quick trim. 

It wasn’t just the anticipation of sex that had Lexa so motivated to impress-- it was Clarke Griffin herself. An infuriating but clever woman who intellectually challenged her. It was beyond physical lust. No woman had ever given her such a chase. 

//

//

Lexa parked her Black S Class Mercedes in front of the upper east apartment building belonging to one Clarke Griffin. A valet took the keys, and she held the papers she brought for Clarke to sign in their plastic caddy over her head to protect her hair from the rainfall. 

All her financial success today was by her own cunning and ladder climbing, but Clarke had been born into old money. Any other woman like that and Lexa’s heart would never so much as flutter -- but Clarke was different. Special. 

She was business savvy, had ideas that while not always the best still had points. She wasn’t afraid to speak up or speak out. 

Lexa respected her and that respect was what fueled her attraction in the first place. 

She watched the valet get in her car and take it around, casually letting her right hand slide into her pocket, and nodding at the doorman who let her in. 

Clarke must have given her description to the building’s employees, since Lexa was guided to the top floor where the old money of the Griffins and their last born and only surviving heir lived, as if a princess of the sky itself. 

In the privacy of the elevator (since the elevator operator’s back was turned to her) she took in one calming breath to prepare herself and slow down her racing heartbeat. 

The doors dinged and Lexa was outside a door. She knocked twice after the elevator doors closed, and the door swung open almost immediately to reveal the face of whom she assumed answered the Griffin phone. 

“I’m--”

“Lexa.” 

Her name was said from inside the apartment. 

Clarke was right there, looking incredibly stunning in a short-sleeved dress that ended mid-thigh -- a deep blue that highlighted her eyes. She had her own set of high heels on and her hair was… shorter. She had dressed up for this, likely hit up a salon to impress, and Lexa’s confidence rose with her arousal at the realization.

She met Clarke’s blue eyes in a knowing stare after openly admiring her outfit, desire burning low and hot in her belly and stirring in reaction with the longing look Clarke gave her. 

“Clarke,” she drew out the name, saying it but meaning something else. 

“That will be all, Byrne,” Clarke addressed her assistant, maintaining eyes with Lexa as she spoke to her assistant. Her eyes dipped down, deliberately drinking in Lexa from head to toe and back up again. 

“Of course Ms. Griffin.” Byrne wished her goodnight, grabbing her coat from the coat rack near Lexa. “Have a good night.” 

They were so noticeably alone when the door closed, and Lexa was quite skilled in reading body language. She noticed the nervous arrangement of Clarke’s hands to her elbows but did not comment on it. 

Lexa stepped forward, purposely looking at her surroundings instead of the woman she wanted. There would be plenty of time for that later. 

“You painted this?” Lexa gestured to the large canvas hanging in the hall, an abstract with reds and oranges, the center shaped like an infinity symbol. 

“How did..?” Clarke came to stand beside her, clearly surprised Lexa knew she painted at all. 

Pleased to have caught Clarke off guard, she elaborated. “You mentioned at that luncheon last year you like to paint, and in the corner of this canvas are your initials.” 

The initials were small, barely there, but Lexa found them easily. She smirked at Clarke’s surprised expression and raised the file in her hand. 

“These need your initials and signature, too, I’m afraid.”

“Dinner first.” Clarke stepped forward so they were mere centimeters apart, just enough for Lexa to smell the fresh floral scent of her shampoo and whatever lovely smell was lotioned into her arms. 

Clarke’s eyes drifted to her lips before looking back up knowingly into her eyes, and Lexa had the impulse to kiss her again -- but she held her ground. 

“I’m famished,” she said softly, knowing her eyes expressed she yearned for more than food. 

“Me too,” Clarke's raspy, agreeable reply came. 

//

Dinner was erotic. 

Clarke moaned into every single bite of her chef’s prepared lineup of dishes. The amuse bouche of fig and something fancily called a ‘reduction’ had triggered a sound so wanton from Clarke’s throat that Lexa had almost dropped her fork. 

“That’s just an appetizer,” Clarke had said. She knew exactly what she was doing. “Wait until the entree.” 

“Please pass my compliments to the chef,” Lexa said, watching as Clarke cleared their table and put down their dessert. A silver dinner tray that had all of the courses ready to go ahead of time. 

Lexa had maintained her composure through the lamb entree and salad, but when Clarke scooped up her chocolate mousse and licked it in an all but explicit manner, Lexa blushed. 

She was only human. 

Clarke grinned at her obvious blush, “I noticed you always have candles in your office. How do you like these?”

Lexa, a candle hoarder by all means of the word, was ashamed to realize she had been so enamoured with Clarke she had hardly noticed them. 

“Classic taper candles.” Lexa kept her gaze on Clarke’s soft, kissable lips as they smiled around the silver of her dessert spoon. “Quite elegant.” 

“You haven’t touched your dessert yet,” Clarke whispered to her, dropping her spoon into a now-empty parfait glass. 

Lexa put her spoon down, wanting to lean forward and give in first. 

But she was not going to demean this game between them. She hadn’t acquitted companies and secured them under her reign by being impatient. 

She leaned back, letting the spoon rest by its untouched dessert.

“Will you sign the papers, Clarke?”

Clarke’s eyes blazed at her challenge and Lexa loved it more than could be considered sane. 

“Five million is steep.” Clarke grabbed the papers that had been out on the dining table during their over-sexualized meal, pretending to scrutinize the fine details. “I think I need some more convincing.” 

Lexa played along. “Convincing?”

“Scotch?”

Lexa watched Clarke stand up, two Glencairn glasses with a bottle she recognized as the expensive single malt gifted by her to her investors. Untouched. 

“Just a finger, please.” She dared to comment, “Do you take a finger, or two?”

Clarke’s hands fumbled with the scotch. To an untrained eye there was no fumble, but Lexa saw it.

“Why don’t we take this to my living room,” Clarke offered, face hiding any clue she was at all affected. 

Lexa grabbed the papers, following Clarke’s swaying hips to her old-fashioned living room. 

It suited Clarke, the soft leather furniture -- a fireplace set low for ambiance -- and more candles around the room. 

“It’s going to be a thunderstorm.” Clarke sat down in one of the two matching armchairs by the fireplace, setting the scotch down. “I like the natural glow of fire and candles on these kinds of nights. It can get chilly.” 

Lexa places the papers down by their glasses, aware of Clarke’s eyes on her body. “I think it’s lovely, Clarke.” 

She casually removed her blazer, folding it properly along the seam and over the chair before sitting down. Without the jacket, her silk blouse showed more collarbone and neck. 

Lexa reached for her Glencairn glass and raised it to Clarke. “Thank you for dinner, Clarke. This is… considerate.” 

She finishes her sentence with her eyes fixed on Clarke’s legs -- the knees and calves and high heels perfectly on display. 

“You’re welcome,” Clarke looks smug from the way Lexa is watching her, and she raises her glass before tossing out a wink and rewarding herself a sip. 

Lexa swallows the dryness of her throat, thirsty for something her scotch won’t soothe. Still, she takes a sip for herself. 

“You look beautiful, Clarke,” she says, putting her glass back down. “I know it’s a late compliment, but…”

Clarke’s eyes darken from her words. She takes one more sip and sets the glass aside before leaning forward and reaching out to touch her fingertips with Lexa’s on the brass drink table between them. 

“You’ve already been pretty clear with your appreciation, Lexa, but thanks all the same….”

She lifts her fingers to gently caress Clarke’s knuckles, watching the way Clarke’s breath hitches. 

“I’ve been thinking about you,” Clarke confesses. “Have you been thinking about me?”

“More than I want to admit.”

Lexa is a few seconds away from kneeling at Clarke’s feet and kissing her legs, but Clarke makes the first move, standing up and then stepping forward to let her fingers twirl around a lock of loose hair. 

Every second feels so tense, so it’s a relief when Clarke sits on her lap and kisses her. Her lips are needy and hungry, and Lexa opens her mouth to let a tongue touch her own -- slow and promising before she has to groan from the fingers massaging into her hair. 

Clarke’s legs are sideways on her lap, to accommodate the dress and the chair’s design. Lexa secures her with a hand splayed on her hip, pushing the dark blue hemline up so she has access to the skin of her thigh. 

There’s a moan of approval in her mouth before Clarke breaks their kiss to access her neck. Lexa holds her there with her other hand cradling her spot between her shoulder blades, tilting her neck to allow Clarke better reign. 

“Lexa,” Clarke’s voice is begging,  _ begging _ for more, and Lexa feels it in her very soul. The same desperate need to be inside of her, pleasuring her and putting them both out of their tormenting curiosity. 

Lexa followed the warmth with her hand tugging the dress up to Clarke’s waist and looking down to see her delicate taste in lingerie: a sheer white lace thong. 

“ _ Clarke _ ,” she said, needing the whole dress off. 

She fumbles with the zipper to tug it down as Clarke lifts from the hemline and Lexa has never had an experience that has made her feel so desperate or passionate as what was on her lap or the taking. 

She no longer cares for patience, greedy to have more of Clarke’s skin on her eyes as she helps Clarke lose the expensive dress. She can’t stop the moan of approval from her throat as her eyes drink in the newly exposed skin. Clarke has a beautiful set of lingerie, an elegant white lace bra, and a g-string that leaves nothing to the imagination. 

“Touch me, please,” Clarke pleads, her own hands fumbling for the buttons on Lexa’s blouse. 

Lexa kisses Clarke again, first giving into the urgency and squeezing the cleavage before her, committing every moan and gasp from Clarke’s throat to her memory. 

With great control, she slows down the tempo of their kiss to rest her forehead to Clarke’s and toy with the fine lace where the thong rests on her hip bone. 

“Did you wear this for me?”

“Mhmm,” Clarke confirms near her ear. “Ivory. Not white.” 

Lexa moans, leaning in to kiss her again. They had been at the museum charity gala, and Lexa had complimented the marble -- appreciating the ivory selection over white. 

Clarke’s hands pull at her hair, and Lexa savours the sight of a red flush spreading across her cleavage, neck, and cheeks -- all for her. 

She holds her bottom lip between her own teeth, moving her thumb gently along the flimsy lace seam where it was soaked through and warm. She does this for a while, wanting to see how sensitive it was. 

“I knew you would be a tease,” Clarke grumbles into her ear, dragging her teeth on the lobe before kissing where her jawline met. She whispered again. “I want to see you lose control tonight...” 

Lexa pressed her thumb down harder and then used it to move the lace aside, massaging over the small tufts of groomed hair to directly feel how wet Clarke is for her. “You don’t get to where I am by relinquishing control, Clarke…”

“Please?” Clarke flutters her lashes, a coy smile on her lips. “Don’t hold back.” 

Lips are on her again, and Lexa knows that as much as she denies it -- she has no power here anymore. She angles her hand and presses a fingertip gently inside, relishing the way Clarke clings to her with a gasp before going back to breathless whispers in her ear. 

“I like two fingers… to start.”

_ Fuck.  _

“I suspected.” She lays a tender kiss as her voice cracks, watching the pleasure on Clarke’s face spread as she pushes deeper, thumb pressed to a swollen clit. She adds her ring finger to the middle one and curves them in deep before starting to thrust and rotate her wrist. She’s slow, seeking out where Clarke feels it the most -- and she finds it, curling her fingers hard on the way out. 

“Oh my god!” Clarke has clearly never been fucked properly, from the surprise and lurch of her voice and body, and Lexa slowly fucks into her with the subtle power of her wrist that has the woman on her lap praising a higher deity again and again and again, muffled into her neck. 

Lexa is tempted to pump Clarke faster, eager to see her succumb, but she musters every bit of discipline she can to drag it out. She’s harder with a specific thrust and then knows exactly when to pause and curve her fingers to explore. 

“Please don’t stop…I’m going to -- oh!” Clarke’s head is matted with sweat, and she crushes her mouth to Lexa’s, kissing her with everything she can give until her breath gasps in the climax. Lexa watches as pleasure washes over Clarke’s face, her jaw dropping open in ecstasy, her neck arching, her fingers digging…

Clarke shakes and moans, and Lexa keeps moving her fingers to catch each wave. 

She’s not sure who engages in the next kiss, with more tongue than lips, and Clarke whispers into her ear, “Bedroom.” 

//

There is nothing Lexa finds more attractive in a woman than one who knows what she wants. Clarke has her pinned to the door of her bedroom -- a grand suite with luxurious pillows and even more candles. 

“You did all this for me?” She teases the woman nipping into her neck. 

“Shut up.” Clarke leans back, hands splayed across Lexa’s ribs under her unbuttoned and now ruffled silk shirt. They move up and cup her over the black lace of her bralette. 

Lexa’s eyes darken. If there’s one thing she knows about people, it’s their tells. And Clarke wants Lexa to know how much she wants Lexa -- this whole evening was a cry for her attention. She knows Clarke wants her to lose control, to stop holding back… they both want it. 

“Make me,” Lexa challenges her, eyelashes fluttering as Clarke squeezes her and then palms her way back down to the waistband of her slacks. 

Keeping eye contact, Clarke unhooks the inner metal clasp, the two small fancy buttons, and finally the zip. And Clarke pauses, waiting for what Lexa will tell her to do. 

Lexa leans her weight back against the wall, swallowing the saliva in her throat. She’s never been like this before with anyone, never let a woman have her back against the wall or see the side of her that was about to come out. 

“Tell me if I got too far, okay?” Lexa grabs the hand waiting for instruction. 

Clarke sighs, relieved. She kisses Lexa much softer this time and promises her, “I want you to lose control and I meant it. I’m yours… and you, you are mine.” 

Lexa’s heart wants to burst with the possessive flash of Clarke’s eyes. Both entirely in awe of the other. 

Placing her hands on both of Clarke’s shoulders, Lexa plays with the strands of silky blonde hair that are there, and then gives a firm push downwards to put Clarke on her knees. 

She looks down to where Clarke kneels, still in her lingerie, eyes filled with desire and lips gently brushing her sensitive belly. 

“Show me how badly you want me, Clarke.” She grabs the hair and watches -- enraptured as Clarke presses a kiss to her stomach, across her hipbone, and then into the seam of her zipper. 

The pressure is not enough and yet it’s almost too much. Lexa catches their reflection in the floor-length mirror that sits nearby Clarke’s walk-in closet-- sees Clarke from behind, on her knees, licking into the fabric of her expensive trousers. 

She looks back down where Clarke is watching her knowingly, pulling her trousers down over her hip bone so her lacy boyshorts were all that hid her from Clarke. Lexa keeps a steady hand at the back of Clarke’s head, using the other to tug them down her thighs as well. She’s fully waxed, a personal preference, and guides Clarke forward. 

It’s so filthy, the way Clarke moans at the first taste of her. Filthier than every moan she made during dinner, and Lexa presses her closer, looking down and watching that whip-smart tongue sneak and suck on her clit. 

“Fuck.” Lexa loses her control, wishing her thighs could spread farther apart so Clarke had more access with that mouth. “Good girl.”

Clarke’s tongue reaches deeper, Lexa cants her hips forward and lets it carry on for a few minutes, staring down at blue eyes so eager to please her, and petting her hair with an occasional tug and massage. 

“Enough,” she commands Clarke. 

Clarke stands up and Lexa lets her steal a kiss, both of them groaning at the taste. A hand reaches forward, ready to replace where her mouth has been, but Lexa stops it, smiling at the pout on Clarke’s lips. 

“Don’t worry we’ll get there soon,” Lexa promises her. “But first… why don’t you strip for me, and then get on your hands and knees? Would you like that?”

Lexa can hear the hitch of breath and see the evidence that Clarke had been hoping for this, her next kiss dirtier and more promising -- almost as if to tell her ‘finally.’ 

“I prefer verbal negotiations.” Lexa slips her hands around firm ass cheeks, closing her eyes so Clarke doesn’t see them roll into the back of her head. 

Clarke chuckles, looking delighted as she leans back. 

“Keep your shirt on for the first time, I like how it feels on my skin.” Clarke’s hands are in her hair and she kisses her again. “And if this is going to be something we do again… and again… and again…”

Lexa inhales sharply as lips brush her ear and each use of the word ‘again’ is accompanied by gyration of Clarke's hips against her own. 

“Then… you better make it memorable, Woods.”

Clarke pushes back from her, a smirk on her face as she unclasps her bra and lets it fall from her body to the floor in a smooth, swift move. 

Lexa steps forward, kicking her underwear and pants from her ankles -- eyes fixed on Clarke’s hands working her g-string down her thighs. 

She freezes for a moment, basking in the sight of the most beautiful woman she’s ever seen, as Clarke flips her hair flirtatiously over her shoulder and gets into position on the bed, first stretching out. 

Lexa can smell the heavenly vanilla of the candles in the room -- her favourite non-powering scent -- and gets on her knees behind Clarke, watching her spine curve. 

Her hands grab at the ass, gripping it and watching the way it reddens. 

“Harder, Lexa.” Clarke sounds almost annoyed and Lexa bristles at the implication she was not up to the task. “That’s not the treatment I was expecting from the woman who--”

Lexa gives a cautionary slap, eyebrows raised at the moan Clarke lets out. 

“You’re being very bratty, Clarke.” She soothes where she slapped the skin with a gentle rub. Her fingers press into Clarke from behind, sliding into a drenched hole that grips her greedily. Clarke moans and starts to pump her hips back into the fingers herself and Lexa allows it for a moment before retreating her hand bringing her fingers to her mouth for a taste. 

She moans. 

“ _ Lexa… _ ” Clarke is begging. 

Her fingers return inside Clarke, squelching through the wetness. She uses three, watching the way Clarke desperately needs her, chasing her fingers and moaning for more. 

Clarke sits up on her knees, leaning back into her and tangling fingers into her hair as Lexa whispers into her ear. 

“I’ve wanted you for so long.” Lexa moved her hips behind her hand, guiding them into their new rhythm. 

“Me too,” Clarke turned her head for a sloppy kiss. “Fuck Lexa, please no more teasing just--”

“I will.” She removed her fingers and turns Clarke around in her arms furiously touching her and panting for her, “Fuck. Lie down. Spread your legs.” 

Clarke collapses eagerly on her back, breasts bouncing. She’s spread out and on display and Lexa settles between her thighs, watching the rise and fall of her chest before looking into blue, heady that need her. 

She kisses Clarke and thrusts into her again, rough with her wrist and soothing with her kiss. Clarke moans, eyes closing. She rolls her hip and Lexa finally, truly lets go. 

//

For such an expensive mattress, the bed springs were obscenely loud. 

“Oh fuck!” 

And Clarke was much louder, shouting into her penthouse with no concern, letting go as Lexa put her body weight on her left arm and continued her uninhibited finger fucking. 

“Lexa!” Clarke’s fingers were in her hair, gripping it, having most certainly already ripped Lexa’s delicate blouse -- not that she cared. 

Lexa opened her eyes, wanting to see if Clarke was close. Her forearm was burning from its position, her other shoulder and bicep were burning from holding her weight up as she pistoned her thighs for pressure, and her throat was burning with words she dare not say so soon. 

“Are you close?” Lexa kept her pace, watching the glistening sweat on Clarke’s body as she arched up. 

“I’m going to--”

Lexa slowed down and curled her three fingers in time as Clarke came, her scream muffled into Lexa’s silk shirt. It was a while until her body relaxed, and she ran her fingers and hands lovingly over Lexa’s back before kissing her through a smile. 

“I have never felt like that before.” 

“Mhmm,” Lexa nuzzled her nose and grinned almost shyly back. “That was -- I mean, I’ve never…”

She’s never fucked a woman so hard, so unabashedly. Never with so much devotion. 

“I know.” Clarke bit her bottom lip, looking smug. “I always knew under that polite demeanour you were… not so polite.”

Lexa shifted her body weight, gently pulling her fingers from between Clarke’s sticky thighs. 

She runs the wetness back up Clarke’s body, feeling up her thigh, her ribs, and then palming a heaving breast before gently toying with her nipple. 

“There are so many ways I still want to make you scream my name…”

Clarke shudders for her. “Darling, you’re so wet, can I take care of you first?”

Lexa hisses when a sneaky finger touches her. 

“Ask me nicely.” Lexa dared her, sitting up on her knees and slipping her blouse off her body. She tosses it on the side of the bed, proud as Clarke’s eyes trace the ink on her arm and the tone of her lean muscle. She lifts her bralette over her head next, letting it join their other clothes on the floor. 

“Please, Lexa.” Clarke’s legs wrap around her hips to pull her back down with alarming strength. “Let me make you feel good.” 

“You already have,” Lexa says, slowly pressing down into her. 

//

“Where’s Picasso?” Lexa whispers between sweet kisses, reluctant to leave when Clarke nibbled on her lower lip and whimpered, still sensitive from their late-night activities. 

Clarke giggled, arms tightening around Lexa’s neck. “I had him sent to the doggy spa so we wouldn’t be interrupted. He’s a needy guy… and a little territorial.” 

Lexa groaned, reminded of how Clarke planned the evening out. It was so hot, knowing she went for what she wanted and got it. Knowing she knew exactly how to play Lexa. 

Lexa knew she had met her match. 

Clarke’s eyes had closed shut as they kissed, and they slowly opened to look back at her. There was a moment where her tongue quickly dipped to her bottom lip and her eyes stared at Lexa’s lips in open want, clearly craving another taste. Her lips were swollen, redness around her mouth from the hours they had spent together in Clarke’s expensive sheets. Lexa sighed, pressing her forehead to Clarke’s and knowing this was a night she would never forget. 

“When can I see you again?” Lexa asked, sliding her hands inside the slinky robe Clarke had donned on before walking her to the door. “I can cancel my afternoon. Fuck, I should have canceled my whole day.” 

“Then cancel it,” Clarke murmured into her, before kissing up her jawline. “Pencil me in for the afternoon instead… I do believe I have some papers to drop off…”

“How’s two o’clock?” Lexa asks before lips are on her again. 

It was now five in the morning, and in one hour the sun would rise and Lexa needed to be on an international call. She pushed that thought aside and kissed Clarke’s addicting lips again, cradling her cheeks with her palms to make sure Clarke thought about her all day. She didn’t care if she sounded desperate anymore, she just wanted more of Clarke.

Clarke kisses her again, and Lexa is turned on by the possessive claim as a tongue sweeps into her mouth. She lets Clarke’s hands wander over her figure appreciatively and it’s Clarke who eventually pushes her back by the shoulders to stop their heavy petting -- a devilish smirk on her face. 

Lexa’s eyes burn over the image of Clarke’s legs and cleavage in her robe, stiff nipples poking beneath the fabric. 

“I’m going to need you on my desk by two o’clock.” 

“I can do two-thirty. Girl’s gotta sleep off a workout like  _ that _ , darling.” 

Lexa was pretty sure she was in love. 

“Pleasure doing business with you, Clarke.” 

//

Two-thirty rolled around Lexa was freshly showered and checking her appearance in the mirror. 

Titus knocked on the door and Lexa called for him to come in. 

“Miss Griffin is here with the papers,” Titus said, nervous. Lexa thought it was amusing how much he feared Clarke. 

She gave him a nod. 

“Let her in, we have something to discuss… that will be all, Titus.”

He scurried off, giving Clarke a wide berth as she stepped into the office. 

Clarke held up the plastic caddy, before tossing it onto the desk. 

“There, signed. You really worked hard for this one.” Clarke sounded smug, probably aware the hot water from Lexa’s shower had stung from where hands clawed into her back. 

Lexa noticed Clarke’s miniskirt was very flowy. 

Easy access. She bit her bottom lip in appreciation. 

“Well, I aim to give the best value to my investors… keeps them coming back.” 

Clarke stepped forward, leaning her hip against the desk. 

“Still, I think we need to review what I’m getting in return… going forward.” 

“Of course,” Lexa braced her arms on either of Clarke’s hips, leaning forward. 

Clarke’s breath hitched from her proximity and Lexa reached under her skirt to caress the inside of her thigh. 

Lexa gently trailed her fingers up, finding Clarke wearing  _ nothing _ and ready for her. 

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” she pushed up into Clarke, her heart hammering in her chest as she helped Clarke up onto the desk and kissed her. 

Clarke whimpered as she entered and Lexa had to hush her. 

“You’ve got to be quiet, darling.” She threw the pet name back at Clarke, rocking her hips with her wrist in methodical motions. “That’s it, good girl…”

Clarke kissed her, her moan muffled into Lexa’s mouth. They moved slowly together, Lexa was mesmerized with the furrow of pleasure Clarke’s brow made -- and the little whimpers and breathless moans from her throat. 

She had coaxed a lot of noises from Clarke already, but something about having her when people were outside the office was just --

Clarke gasped, freezing with her as a knock interrupted them. Lexa met her eyes, about to move out from within her until Clarke’s legs wrapped around her waist and she rotated her hips to take Lexa’s fingers in deeper. 

Lexa couldn’t believe they were so compatible in their kinks -- how was a woman this perfectly matched for her in the bedroom  _ and  _ out?

“Ms. Woods,” Titus called for her. 

“Not now, Titus!” She called back to him, narrowing her eyes on Clarke and thrusting into her with a bit more force. Clarke reached for her to desperately bite down at her shoulder. “I’m in a meeting.” 

“Fuck,” Clarke panted only for Lexa’s ears in needy whimpers. “Don’t stop --  _ fuck _ .”

“It’s just--”

Lexa curled her fingers just so, enjoying the climax that Clarke expressed with her body and face -- pure pleasure and release. 

She slowly helped her ride down, watching the way each sensitive wave had Clarke grip her tighter. 

“Fuck you’re so sexy and beautiful,” Lexa whispered to her. “I promise when we get back to my place you can be as loud as you want.” 

Clarke was catching her breath, nuzzling into her before quickly kissing her lips. “I need to fix my hair, then we can go.” 

Lexa let her slide off the desk, feeling a blush creep up her cheeks as Clarke went to her office bathroom like she owned the place. She grabbed a tissue from her desk to clean her fingers and calmed herself down before grabbing the door and yanking it open. 

“Titus.” 

He was there in almost an instant. 

“I was only reminding you about--”

“Clear my afternoon. I’m going home. And tomorrow too. Clear tomorrow too.”

He looked ready to refute, but Lexa shut the door on him before he had the chance. 

“I’m ready,” Clarke said, looking put-together and like she hadn’t just waltzed in here or a quick fuck. 

Lexa was so in love. 

  
  
  
  
_fin?_


End file.
